Whilst listening to a food debate on a radio phone-in, a lady called Jane from Manchester called in and said she was a Bread Historian.
Which made me wonder how does this job even exist? I’ve never seen it advertised in the Appointments Section of The Guardian.
How did her fascination begin? Did she visit her nan, discover her crusty bloomers fallen behind the bread-bin, examine them and wonder if these were the oldest pieces of bread in the world?
Did she then have an unusually understanding Career’s Officer at school who said: “Bread Historian? Brilliant, I have some very useful leaflets that will help you get started.”
Because at no point, have I had a baguette and thought I wonder what the history of bread is? Who do I go to? Surely there must be some Bread Historian who can help me?
I know, Jane from Manchester. She might know. And sure enough, she does because she’s a Bread Historian.
I bet she’s a fascinating talking point at parties.
People saying: “Ooh, there’s Jane. Lovely girl. Just don’t talk to her about the sandwiches because she’ll give you a lecture on bread. Seriously, she brings her PowerPoint presentation equipment everywhere.”
“I know, and she won’t let you go home without a complimentary sachet of yeast. It’s a shame she never married really but she was always content to just sit in her room and study bread. But, fair play, she’s got a lot of dough.”
But if it makes Jane happy, why not? And there is definitely a world shortage of Bread Historians. Probably, I’ve never looked it up.
Personally, if my writing career fails (and that’s going spectacularly to plan), then I so want to be a Bread Historian, just so I can say “I’m a Bread Historian” and get invited onto radio shows to talk about… Well… Y’ know…? The history of bread, probably.
Indeed, it’s now on my bucket list of things to do, underneath magician’s knife throwing assistant and bee-keeping.
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